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BAMBOO CURTAINS 

ANNA HECKSCHER NEWBOLD 


Contem^oraryToets^^ 




Bamboo Curtains 

BY 

ANNA HECKSCHER NEWBOLD 

(“MARIE BORDEAUX”) 



Publishers DORRANCE Philadelphia 


















COPYRIGHT 1923 
DORRANCE & COMPANY INC 



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©C1A759694 

MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 

NOV -5 *23 

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DEDICATED TO 
“ None other gods. . . 



Acknowledgment is made to 
The Extension Magazine , New 
York Sun, Philadelphia Evening 
Bulletin, Starry Cross. 



CONTENTS 


Page 

Mongolian Lament . 11 

Abandon ..... 12 

Sixteen ... 13 

Missionary of the South Seas . 14 

“Notre Dame” . 16 

To the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty 

to Animals. 17 

Priere D* Artiste. 18 

My Lovers . 19 

Bizarre . 20 

The Hypnotist . 21 

Legon D’Amour . 22 

Futility . 23 

I Wish . 24 

Mediaeval Rhyme . 25 

Dual . 26 

Ragtime . 27 

Helpless . 28 

Ghosts . 29 

The Bohemians . 30 

Midnight .. 31 

Discovery . 32 

Vacation . 33 

Confession . 34 

The Ghost Destroyer . 35 

Unreality . 36 

Punishment . 37 

To a Dead Child . 38 

Autumn . 39 

I Looked at Life. 40 































CONTENTS 


Page 

Requiem .. 41 

Tepid . 42 

Rejected . 43 

Still Life . 44 

Value . 45 

International . 46 

The Fangless Serpent . 47 

La Petite Soeur De Notre Dame . 51 

Gele . 52 

Au Clair de la Lune . 53 

A Mon Comarade . 54 




























































BAMBOO CURTAINS 










Bamboo Curtains 

MONGOLIAN LAMENT 

The hollow click of bamboo curtains, dripping 
Against the fragile outlines of your form; 
The false warmth of a lamp of scarlet swinging, 
Promising more than shelter from the storm. 
These are my cursed memories of you! 

Slowest of smiles and opium-sweet caresses, 
Exquisite, pale Deceiver of that smoke-filled 
room, 

Behind those useless, rattling, mocking curtains 
You stood and beckoned me to greater doom. 
Surely my eyes deceived me,—did you sever 
That yellow rainfall? Could it then be true 
Your jeweled hands parted and tossed it back¬ 
ward, 

Or did that trembling wall but sever you— 
Slicing your figure into narrow fragments, 
Clinging and bowing, loath to let you through? 
I hardly know. I only know you neared me, 
My living flower of the dead bamboo! 

And now the hollow click of bamboo curtains 
Assures me that your soul was hollow too! 


11 


12 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


ABANDON 

I crown myself with flowers 
That you may rend my crown; 

I pile my hair up higher 
That you may tear it down. 

My arms wait all the whiter 
For bruises from your clasp; 

My song dies all the sweeter 
When stifled in your grasp. 

I teach my heart to beat for you 
That it may never tire; 

I purify my soul that you 
May blacken it with fire! 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


13 


SIXTEEN 

Sickeningly sweet ice-cream sodas, 
Sickeningly sweet lifted eyes— 

Ruffles, serge coats and “duck” trousers, 
Dances, refreshments, and flies! 
Moonlight and slow-swinging hammocks, 
Laughter and then a caress .... 

Yet we recall those sweet moments 
Only with bitterness! 


o 


14 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


MISSIONARY OF THE SOUTH SEAS 

“These are our Islands 
We are the Ruling Race!” 

It was not as our Missionary 
Spoke of the place. 

I was there when the Church-Board claimed 
He had failed in his quest, 

And his words wandered back in our minds— 

“I have failed—with the rest.” 

Our Rector demanded impatiently that he explain, 
And the young man spoke dreamily, with no 
reserve, 

And without even shame. 

“I wonder if you ever chanced to hear 
Those voices on a pulsing, perfumed night, 

A wail of instruments, dragged into sound? 

Tyranny! That’s all that can be found 
In such persistent murmurs of delight. 

Here are those gold-skinned choir girls of ours, 
Decking their raven hair with scarlet flowers. 

How could I speak of Day—to eyes of night? 
We are the ruling race, yet we succumb 
So gladly to their subtle mastery. 

What are the secrets of the witchery 
Which leaves the will inert and conscience dumb 
Stealing between the words of Luke and John? 

We crush the flower but its scent floats on! 
Often at Evening Service one could hear 
Their ukeleles sobbing while I preach. 

It seemed as if the very waves rose up 
And called my congregation to the beach 
Where shameless hula-girls like ocean birds, 
Skimmed o’er the waters of all passion’s tide. 
Smooth insults flung from young Hawaiian gods 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


15 


Tore the last vestige of our foreign pride. 
Savage to Savage! Yet were we civilized 

Until these Islands drugged us like strong wine. 
The ruling race who serves with rapturous joy 
Its slaves who turned their masters into swine.” 


16 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


“NOTRE DAMB” 

(Parisian Sketch) 

Waxen fingers clasped in prayer, 
Madeleine and Cecile; 

I have seen you kneeling there— 
Madeleine and Cecile. 

In the dim cathedral-light, 

Faces both Madonna-white, 

Tearful eyes that once were bright— 
Madeleine and Cecile! 

Marble shoulders unadorned, 
Madeleine and Cecile— 

Faces which no longer mourned, 
Madeleine and Cecile. 

Have you left your souls behind 
For old Notre Dame to “mind”? 

Many roads to heaven find— 
Madeleine and Cecile! 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


17 


TO THE SOCIETY FOR THE PREVENTION 
OF CRUELTY TO ANIMALS 

A thousand velvet eyes aglow with thanks, 

A thousand tiny paws in welcome waved, 

An orchestra of barks and neighs and purrs 
Struck up, and maddest gayety betrayed! 
Each satin nose will press its owner’s hand, 
Such happiness and frolic will abound 
When old S. P. C. A. meets all its friends 
At last, within their Happy Hunting Ground! 


o 


18 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


PRIERB D’ARTISTE 

Live on, oh Church of Rome! Live on and keep 
The spirit of the Old-World in your walls; 

Dim and mysterious your twilight falls 
Upon my soul, as on the weary, sleep. 

The deafening song of that New-World without 
Dies; I hear the Latin of your chants arise. 

In unison, the tear-drops from my eyes 
Fall with wax tears of tapers all about. 

Maria, spare me from the fear my heart 
Possesses for the spirit of this land; 

I am alone and helpless, in the band, 

Of these strange citizens that know not Art! 
Mid your majestic walls, O Church, I bow 
In prayer before the shrine of Him who gave 
Sight to the blind. Help me that I may save 
The love of beauty in this nation now! 

But if I fail, look still on Her with grace, 
Judge gently the confession I may give; 

As long as you remain Europe shall live— 
Here, where her child no longer knows her face! 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


19 


MY LOVERS 

My cat brought in a mouse that she had caught 
the other night, 

Her strategy and skill I did applaud with forced 
delight 

And praised her for this gruesome and this most 
unwelcome sight— 

“My cat,” I said, “your cunning is sublime!” 

And so it is, sweetheart, I drag before your 
majesty, 

The many hearts I captured with such skill and 
strategy; 

So don't be jealous—these are but my spoils I 
let you see, 

To hear you say: “She’s clever, but she’s mine!” 


20 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


BIZARRE 

My soul is like a hot-house flower, 
Forced to a strange exotic bloom, 

Reared in a tropic paradise 
By a magician of perfume. 

By a mad God of Concentration, 
Striving to consummate the spark 

Which might live a thousand life-times 
Twixt the daylight and the dark! 

Only the hottest sun can warm me, 
Only a deluge quench my thirst; 

For my heart must first be breaking 
Ere my petals start to burst. 

So I stand, alone and waiting, 
Super-flower, super-soul. 

Why should I, whose stem is frailest, 
Pay the heaviest toll? 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


21 


THE HYPNOTIST 

As though a window has been closed 
Hushing the traffic of the street, 

Your presence hushed the World’s discord— 
Spread velvet ’neath its weary feet; 
Muffling all sound except the song 

The wings of your strong soul would make, 
Drugging my very spirit, till— 

Only my senses were awake! 

So great in mesmerism seems 
Your touch, in its narcotic art, 

I am contented, just to hear 
The beating of your heart! 


22 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


LECON D’AMOUR 

9 

I dreamt that Experience came one time 
And stayed my hand from its cup of wine, 
Snatched it away ere my lips it passed— 

“My child,” she proclaimed, “you drink too 
fast! 

For the lesson of Joy can be learned too late 
When Love has departed and fastened the gate, 
And the words of its text are: ‘Withhold! With¬ 
hold !’ 

For a heart disclosed is a tale soon told!” 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 23 

FUTILITY 

Entreat a match to hold its dying flame— 

Pray that a rose’s petals may not fall— 

Beseech a rushing cataract to halt— 

And yet—such prayers Life wrenches from us all! 


24 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


I WISH 

I wish my love for you were like a bridge, 
Swung high above Life’s cruel, stormy sea, 
Where you could walk in safety to the end, 
Protected from the breakers’ treachery. 

Two sentinels would guard its iron gates, 
Lowering their rifles only when you came 
And gave the password, and that word would be: 

“Marie.” 

I wish my love for you were like the charm 
That made Achilles proof against ill-fate, 

To clothe you in an armor which the darts 
Of enemies would never penetrate. 
Impenetrable—-yet not quite immune 
To any arrow I might once insert. 

I hardly know which is the sweetest right, 

The right to love you—or the right to hurt! 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


25 


MEDIAEVAL RHYME 

Fire and snow are all lovers, 

Freezing and melting each other, 
Torturing and robbing each other— 
Fire and Snow. 

Weakness and strength are the lovers, 
Wounding and succoring each other, 
Tending one moment, uprooting another 
All that they sow. 

Ruthless destroyers of each other, 

During their lives are the lovers 
Slowly defacing each other— 

Like fire and snow. 

Yet in destroying each other— 

With equal persistence the lovers 
Immortalize then one another, 

And into the cloud-lands go! 


26 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


DUAL 

Your soul is like a sombre scene in Scotland, 

So utterly its secrets you disguise— 

No one would guess that stern and barren spirit 
Concealed an Oriental Paradise! 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


27 


RAGTIME 

You and I on a polished floor, 

And a big Marimba band, 
Answering its syncopated call 
We so well understand. 

The colored lights above us wink 
Like eyes of little elves. 

We’ll surely set the world on fire— 
If we don’t catch fire ourselves! 


28 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


HELPLESS 

How can they tell—the victims, 
The right wife from the wrong, 
When never the same two sirens 
Lure with the same sweet song! 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


29 


GHOSTS 

Yes, I will scream if they leave me alone, 

Alone with Thought! 

Torturing phantom that terrors and leaves me 
All over-wrought. 

Blow out the candle, and fancy me slumbering, 
Exit, and fasten the door. 

Leave me alone? Never had I more company— 
Guests, by the score! 

Their wan faces madden me; now fickle Memory 
Comes to their aid! 

Ah, Death and Sleep, have you too, forgotten 
This prisoner of shade? 

Yes, go! and I’ll kill myself; 

From the house fly! 

Never was murderer 

Haunted as I! 

What will I do, if they leave me alone with them, 
Too weak to kill myself, too strong to scream? 

Temptingly Death and Sleep hold out their arms 
to me, 

For in my living death, they’re but a dream! 


30 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


THE BOHEMIANS 

“Where shall we be six years from now?” 

We had laughed at the thought, we three, 

In a small cafe at our shilling lunch, 

Alfred and Roger and me! 

We smiled at our fellow-students 

As they argued and fought about Art, 

And the Indian prince in a corner 

Blew his cigarette smoke in my heart! 

Alfred assured us the stew was “cat,” 

Roger in Scottish disdain, 

Sneered and beseeched him to “leave it at that” 
Or none of the guests would remain! 

But Alfred the witty, must force us to laugh 
Over and over again. 

“Where shall we be six years from now?” 

They answered with little delay: 

Alfred, “I’ll have the Prix de Rome 
And live at the Grand Palais!” 

“A house in the Highlands of Inverness,” 

Said Roger, eyes dreamily gray: 

“But you,” they assured, “will abandon your Art 
For love in a cottage some day!” 

And now that those years have drifted by 
With that care-free life we led, 

I think Fate smiled at the prophecy 
That we hurled upon her head; 

For Roger is off to the great World War, 

And Alfred, the smiling—is dead. 

Six years! Six years to find the key 

To our house of dreams—but we laughed, we 
three! 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


31 


MIDNIGHT 

Only the cat is home, before the fire, 

Curled in a fluffy ball of great content; 

The clock, unwound, tells a forgotten hour, 

Little perceiving where the hour went. 

Only the cat to judge, at the crackling fire, 

The folly of the way that hour was spent. 

Poor Cinderella, in her rags and tatters, 
Weeping so sadly for her small glass shoe, 
The great Prince would not heed such trifling 
matters, 

So useless would it be to him—or you. 

The gray cat shakes the tears away in patience 
That drop upon his head like falling dew. 
Poor Cinderella, in her rags and tatters, 

What could she mean to that great Prince—or 
you? 


32 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


DISCOVERY 

I think the “Waters of Eternal Youth’’ 
Must mean the Sea! 

Its romping waves forever make 
A child of me. 

And when upon their backs I ride 
And kick with glee, 

I know the “Waters of Eternal Youth” 
Must mean the Sea! 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


33 


VACATION 

Oh, I should give the world to stand 
On the steps of a swift “express,” 

And wave farewell to familiar scenes, 

In the “chic-est” traveling dress! 

With plenty of time for a long, long trip 
And plenty of gowns to brag, 

With a dazzling sun in an azure sky— 

And a bathing suit in my bag! 

Oh, to arrive at a great hotel— 

With a French boudoir reserved— 

On an island of palms and youthful guests, 
Round which a long beach curved. 

And the starlit nights, and the dancing-groves, 
And the cigarette-scented breeze, 

And the jingling key in our bedroom door 
When dawn steals through the trees! 

“Love in a cottage” wearies me much, 
Marriage? Don’t ask me again; 

But You I elect above all the rest, 

For my Holiday-Comrade, then! 


34 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


CONFESSION 

Alone on my prie-dieu, nightly 
I kneel to confess my sins, 

But the only prayer that is fervent 
Is the one which my heart begins: 
Beloved, may I ever be: 

Silence and Song to you, 
Present and Past to you, 

Both Right and Wrong to you, 
First and the Last with you— 
Fever and Calm to you, 

Burning and Balm to you— 

Idol and Slave. 

Guarding like angels true 
All the great soul of you; 

Future on earth to you— 

Life after death for you 
Over the grave! 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


35 


THE GHOST DESTROYER 

I am so much afraid of the terrible Dark 
That I crouch in a corner with fear, 

The ghosts creep around me so white and so stark 
And the goblins make faces and leer. 

They upset my porridge and tangle my hair, 
They sit on my footstool and shriek, 

A cauldron steams wickedly into the air, 

And owl has a bat in his beak. 

For Life seems a witch that will turn me to stone 
And Time is a skeleton grim, 

Both planning to rob me of flesh and of bone 
And throw me to Death for a whim. 

Then a knock at the door sharp and bold can be 
heard 

And I spring to my feet with a scream, 

A tall stranger waits, and he utters no word, 
But he conquers my terrible dream. 

His eyes are as fearless as young Lochinvar, 

His arms are as strong as the sea, 

And the goblin jumps hurriedly back in his jar 
While the witch grows as pale as can be. 

The shutters fling wide at the sound of his voice, 
The sun rises up in the sky, 

“I am here, little girl, never fear, never fear, 

Do not cry, precious baby, don’t cry.” 

Then the shrouds turn to sheets and the cauldron 
rolls off, 

And the eyes that so gleamed become rain in a 
trough, 

And the horrors that chilled me with fear fade 
away, 

In the light of your presence—my Prince of 
the Day! 


36 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


UNREALITY 

I wonder, when we first see Paradise 
If all its beauties will appear unreal; 

If we will stretch out hands in breathless doubt, 
The feathers of the angels’ wings to feel! 
Life’s great events seem but Mirage, and yet 
Their memory so lastingly endures. 

I look into your eyes, beloved, Today, 

And cannot realize I once was yours! 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


37 


PUNISHMENT 

Not with the lash of whips or crush of irons, 
Does Conscience, Chinese-torturer, subdue, 
But slowly, as the slowest drops of water, 

His punishments descend on us anew. 

The pressure of their slow, persistent falling 
Shatters the soul at last, and it is cleft; 

Until, like crumbling rocks against the breakers. 
Only the fragment of a soul is left! 


38 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


TO A DEAD CHILD 

Only in dreams you came to us, our son, 

Prince of our highest hopes and vain ambition, 
And as the lightning flashes through a storm 
Your face flashed in the light of some great 
mission. 

Hold your head proudly in that other land, 

Serve your King there as you would serve Him 
here; 

Let your young soul shirk no appointed task; 
Fear not to serve alone, for we are near. 

And if your hand should need a human clasp, 
Our parent-love is but a conflagration 
That rending Time and Space will reach your 
hand 

In that great force which knows no separation! 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


39 


AUTUMN 

A desperate vampire flung from Summer’s arms, 
Madly she paints her face and dyes her hair 
In one last wild attempt to seem more fair, 

In fevered haste to concentrate her charms. 
Her smile is dazzling, desperate and bold, 

She decks her shivering form in red and gold, 
She lights her fires with driftwood of Romance 
And like Salome, whirls into a dance 
That scatters all her raiment on the breeze, 
That strips of youth and beauty all the trees. 
Ashes of hope and summer dreams are lying 
Beneath the fire that Autumn lit, while dying. 


40 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


I LOOKED AT LIFE 

I looked at Life, and once it seemed 
A panorama gay, 

A kingdom of bright promise 

Where Youth should have full sway, 

The Testament of Faith had willed 
It should be mine, some day. 

Poor Youth! Ah, how the final truth appalls! 

For now I know that Life is but 
A narrow passage-way, 

So narrow it becomes as to obscure 
The light of day ; 

So narrow that my hopes and dreams 
Will have no room to stay, 

Till it will crush me in its meeting walls. 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


41 


REQUIEM 

When I am dead, let down my hair 
And close my eyes. 

Dress me for bed. In that dark land 
No suns will rise. 

Fasten the shutters; carry off the light, 
Fondly I wish this sweet-sad world good-night. 
Once have I seen my soul on fire 
Mount to the skies. 

Once have I had my heart’s desire— 

So close my eyes. 


42 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


TEPID 

So you think you have been in love? Ah, I fear 
Your “career” has not even begun! 

You have no more been burned by the heat of 
that flame 

Than the South has been burned by the sun! 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


43 


REJECTED 

It was but Chance that brought them 
Face to face; 

Their eyes showed naked spirits 
In disgrace. 

Unwillingly they halted, tried to smile; 

“Hello! What were you doing all this while?” 

His walk a bit unsteady; trembling hands 
Groped cigarettes. 

Her lips a bit too red. She laughed: “War smiles 
On farmerettes.” 

“I thought you studied nursing,” he had sighed. 

“I thought you joined the army,” she replied. 

From the same piece of cloth these two were cut, 
Of natures strange. 

Slaves to the most capricious law of all— 

The Law of Change. 

War's pendulum had swung them near Redemp¬ 
tion, 

Peace—brought them all the evils of Suspension, 

Monotony had done its best to break them*— 
Their lives derange. 

Cursing the fate that raised Life's curtain then, 

Praying they should not meet so soon again— 

Masking their souls, they parted, but to search 
A wider range. 


44 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


STILL LIFE 

Oh, how they sicken me, paintings of “still-life,” 
Apples, grouped carefully near a blue vase— 
Vessels of glass, to give sharp vivid high-lights, 
Flowers aslant in the sun’s golden rays. 
Models who need not the least relaxation, 

Models who breathe not, and ask for no fees, 
Art for an artist? Then give me the model 
Who faints in a pose half so rigid as these! 
Give me the tree tossing leaflets regardlessly 
Down on my canvas, to make a strange flaw, 
Give me the sunset which fades into twilight, 
Ere I can paint all the colors I saw. 

Give me the model whose lips droop in weariness 
Holding the smile I am trying to sketch, 

Lips that request with a pale human wistfulness: 
“Please, will you let me have one little stretch?” 
Still-life! What tangible ghosts of Monotony! 

Stolid reminders of life’s dismal “chores”; 

All of my life I have tried to escape from you, 
Hideous models my spirit deplores! 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 45 

VALUE 

“They can only be great who have greatly suf¬ 
fered” ; 

So dictates the heartless old World. 

“Ah, Torture, they prize you too highly!” the 
oyster 

Cried out to the stone it impearled. 


46 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


INTERNATIONAL 

Yes, all the women in the world 
Fd represent to you— 

From South Sea maid to Japanese, 
The false ones and the true; 
While you, an audience of One, 
Would this, my caprice view, 
Each nation underneath the sun— 
I’d play its role for you! 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


47 


THE FANGLESS SERPENT 

She was Mona Lisa—robbed of her smile, 
She was Venus—lying dead; 

She was Cleopatra, minus her guile, 
Medusa—without her head; 

She was Circe—finding her wand mislaid, 
Salome—who meant no harm, 

Aurora lost in a mass of shade— 

This Beauty—with no charm! 






48 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


THE GIFT 

My Fairy God-mother gave me a net, 

A butterfly net, you see: 

“Run into the field of Life and get 
Each one of your moods for me. 

Catch them and put them aside awhile, 

Then let them fly off,” said she. 

So I captured the moods both great and small 
And some were of horrible form, 

But she said I could always make use of them all, 
So I covered and kept them quite warm. 

One morning I looked in their bright golden cage 
And there I beheld a strange sight— 

The moods I had cherished had ripened with age. 
And turned into Verse, over-night! 


SOUVENIR DE FRANCE 



BAMBOO CURTAINS 


51 


LA PETITE SOEUR DE NOTRE DAME 

Elle etait religieuse—cette petite Venus! 

Ma foi! quelles yeux, si profonds comme la mer, 
La bouche toute rouge est formee pour des 
baisers— 

Mais utilisee seulement pour prieres. 

La taille d’un Ange, meme, parcequ’elle etait 
drapee 

En sombre noir correctement severe. 

Sainte, elle est surement, dans le vieux couvent,— 
Elle est Reine dans un Monde plus leger. 
“Pardon, ma Soeur,” j’ai dit, un jour en passant, 
Quand touts ses compagnions ont quitte d’elle, 
“Mais pourquoi as tu choisi cette profession 
Quand pour la beaute tout le monde appelle?” 
“Ah”! Elle a criee, joliment distraite, 

“Toujours vous hommes me tirez de ma 
retraite, 

Et—c’est a cause de vous que je me cache! 

Votre inutile carriere chaque jour une fete! 
Toujours cette invitation si aimable— 

De servir dans le monde du vieux Diable!” 


52 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


GELE 

Rien chauffe que le feu— 

Et tu sais que j’ai froid! 
M’aimer tant que tu veux— 
La Chaleur est notre droit! 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


53 


AU CLAIR DE LA LUNE 

Petit pere de tout le Monde, 
M’oublies pas, 

Je t’en prie. Ta benediction 
Donne a moi. 

Comme le pauvre petit pierrot, 
Chandelle morte, eteint mon feu, 
Ouvre, de ta vie, la porte— 

Toi, si pres de Dieu! 

Comme, devant sa lumiere pure, 

Je peut voir un peu! 


0 


54 


BAMBOO CURTAINS 


A MON COMARADE 

Juges moi comme tu veux; 

La vie n’est pas toujour si douce. 

Tu etait dificile, un peu, 

Et—j’etait fatigue de tout. 

Mais juges moi comme tu veux. 

Nous etions plein de joie de l’Art, 

Toi, si enchante avec Elle, 

Mais tu travaillais toujour a part, 

Et Jetait seule, toute seule—mais belle! 

. . . Peut-etre tes raisons sont les mieux 
Seulement—juges moi comme tu veux. 





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